


Bones

by stillwaters01



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backstory, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Family, Gen, Star Trek References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillwaters01/pseuds/stillwaters01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in 5x16, Dean finds out the real reason Sam named his dog “Bones.”</p>
<p>(Originally posted 8/9/11)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Just playing, with love and respect to those who brought these characters to life.
> 
> Written: 8/5/11-8/8/11
> 
> Notes: This piece stems from the scene in 5x16 (Dark Side of the Moon) where Dean meets Sam’s dog and sees his brother’s view of the events that took place in Flagstaff. There were such deep emotions between Sam and Dean in that scene and an undercurrent of much more unsaid and unexplored. It always stuck with me. I particularly wondered why Sam chose the name “Bones” for the Golden Retriever – and then he and Dean offered this response. I hope I do them justice. Thank you for reading.

 

 

It happened a month after Heaven.

 

They were walking to a deli when Sam’s eyes strayed toward the pet shop window next door. Sam had always had a thing for dogs, and Dean was used to stopping and finding some excuse to indulge him. They had done it for years. Sam would sit on the floor, a veritable jungle gym of limbs for puppies to scale, while Dean watched from nearby, one hand resting on a cat in his lap, Dr. Evil style. Dean didn’t mind dogs, he’d just never had the same affection for them as Sam – but he _did_ appreciate how they affected his brother – the way wagging tails swept away all traces of tension; the relaxed, open smile; the rare, unguarded laughter as Sam let the squirming ball of fur knock him to the ground while licking his face and chewing his hair. Dean would enjoy the brief resurgence of that lost innocence while internally amusing himself with crude cat puns, externally muttering Bond villainesque lines when people walked by, and subconsciously relaxing to the soothing purr of the little organic engine curled against his abdomen. All in all, it was one of their more _normal_ stress relievers and one Dean kind of missed, even in the wake of growling, mauling nightmares.

 

“You wanna stop?” he asked, nodding toward the door.

 

Sam shook his head, looking away. He swallowed hard, memories of Flagstaff, and Dean’s hurt, an anguished flood across his suddenly pale face.

 

Dean sighed. Right. Because _nothing_ was freaking normal anymore.

 

Except for the dog. Because while Sam may have looked away, the little Golden Retriever puppy didn’t. Joyful eyes, brimming with affection for someone he had never even met, stayed focused on Sam.

 

Dean swallowed thickly. He was generally more of the ‘bury it and never think of it again’ school of dealing with crap. And dammit, the amount of time it had taken for Sam to realize how much his running away had affected Dean all those years ago….it hurt like hell. But the guilt on Sam’s face after understanding had dawned, the same guilt that Sam was drowning in now….

 

That hurt more.

 

And suddenly, as much as it was a constant in Dean’s life, the hurt was too much. Michael, Lucifer, Zachariah, Cas, Anna, Uriel, Joshua, God…..the dozens of voices assaulting his ears, burying him in prophecy, and forcibly orchestrating what _they_ wanted …..it all fell away.

 

To one voice.

 

Dean’s.

 

And the only thing Dean ever wanted.

 

To be Sam’s brother. The two of them against the world.

 

Just ‘cause.

 

Dean looked inside and saw a guy walking around with a kitten perched on his shoulder. Parrot-cat. That randomness _alone_ was enough reason to go inside. “C’mon,” he urged Sam, slapping his shoulder.

 

Sam planted himself firmly. “No. Dean I can’t….” he shook his head miserably.

 

_I can’t put you through that again._

_I can’t see the disappointment on your face again._

_I can’t make you doubt the one thing that keeps you going again._

 

“Sam…” Dean prodded.

 

Sam looked up and Dean froze at the devastation in his eyes. The open fear that even this small chance at happiness would be too painful an allusion to what Dean had seen in Heaven. And with that, the realization that Sam really _did_ need Dean as much as Dean needed him – because Sam’s refusal to move, the heartbreaking look in his eyes, signaled that he’d sooner walk past this moment of happiness than ever see Dean feel that hurt again.

 

Dean knew the feeling intimately. Winchester guilt was hard to dissolve.

 

But not impossible.

 

It just took a different approach.

 

Dean sighed. “What’s the matter Sam? Afraid you’re gonna come up with another lame name?” he nodded toward the puppy.

 

Sam’s brow furrowed at the shift. “What?” he stammered.

 

Dean watched Sam’s response carefully, clinically, under the prescribed tease. “I gotta admit, Sammy, I expected something _really_ nerdy – you know, like an obscure Roman philosopher or something. But ‘Bones?’ Seriously? _That’s_ the best you could come up with? Pretty unoriginal Sam,” Dean chided disapprovingly, confining his grin to his eyes.

 

Sam took a minute to change gears, sluggish in his guilt. “What’s wrong with ‘Bones?’” he asked.

 

“It’s like… one step up from ‘Fido,’” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pitched his voice higher, mocking, “Well, my dog likes milkbones, so I know! Let’s call him ‘Bones!’”

 

Sam huffed a half-laugh at Dean’s performance. “I didn’t name him for the _dog_ _biscuits_ ,” Sam retorted, a hint of Dean’s intended response under the still-shadowed eyes.

 

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Really?” he asked, surprised. “Huh.” When Sam didn’t elaborate, Dean raised one hand in a ‘well, come on, let’s hear it’ gesture. “Okay, so….” he prodded.

 

The walls slammed back up. Sam tensed, eyes brimming as he went nonverbal, shaking his head desperately.

 

Dean struggled to see through the curtained hair – and found they were right back to guilt. Which meant that whatever the _real_ answer was, Sam thought it was going to break the fragile balance they had resumed since their latest dance with death.

 

Screw that.

 

The puppy pawed at the glass.

 

“Hey. Sam,” Dean said lightly, nodding at the puppy while naturally moving his body to block passersby from seeing his brother on the verge of a sidewalk meltdown. “C’mon, even Bones Jr. there wants to know.”

 

Sam’s breath hitched.

 

Dean cursed inwardly. “Sam,” he said softly, moving his hands to Sam’s face. “Look at me,” he insisted, waiting until Sam finally, reluctantly, met his eyes. Dean smiled sadly. “Good,” he praised, patting Sam’s jaw lightly before dropping his hands to the hunched shoulders. “Now, listen to me. Whatever you say right now….it’s _not_ gonna change anything, okay? You wanted to know more about Mom and Dad’s marriage…hell, even my damn _sandwiches_ because you said if it was important to me, it was important to you. Well, same rules. That dog was important to you – and I know you fed him and stuff, but for those two weeks, he looked after you too,” Dean cleared his throat roughly. “When I couldn’t,” he choked, before gathering his voice again. “So, in a way, I owe him. At _least_ enough to know his name.”

 

“Dean, I can’t…..” Sam gulped.

 

“Sam, I’m not gonna lie – it hurt when I saw it. Hurt like hell,” Dean admitted. “But if we’re gonna do this… _together_ …. it’s a two-way street. We’re looking at the end of the _world_ here, man,” Dean’s voice broke, eyes bright. “Are we really gonna let something like _this_ …..” he looked away, swallowing desperately.

 

Sam drew in a shaky breath. “Star Trek,” he finally said.

 

Dean shook his head, a picture of confusion. “Star Trek?” he echoed.

 

Sam looked down shyly. “I named him for Dr. McCoy.”

 

Dean took a minute to process that. “Wait, as in Bones ‘dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a dog’ McCoy?” he asked, bewildered.

 

Sam nodded.

 

“Okaaaaaay,” Dean thought aloud. “Where did _that_ come from? You never even _watched_ that show.” Dean had always been the sci-fi fan, devouring Twilight Zone reruns, Star Wars marathons, and late night creature features when Dad was out on a job. Sam generally preferred cartoons or, in some weird genetic twist, old-school musicals.

 

“Yes I did,” Sam corrected, the hint of petulance in his voice a promising sign.

 

“When?” Dean persisted, as if the fact he couldn’t remember a part of Sam’s childhood meant it couldn’t _possibly_ have happened.

 

“The two times I stayed at Pastor Jim’s when I was sick,” Sam supplied. “I couldn’t sleep, and the sci-fi channel had marathons of the original series all night.”

 

Dean remembered those two times, having to drop Sam off when Dad insisted on needing Dean to finish a hunt – the first when Sam was seven with a stomach virus, the second at nine with the flu. Once Sam hit the double digits, he stayed in the motel by himself when he was sick, so long as he was mostly conscious. But that was also when Dean started to hold his ground about staying with Sam, pushing the line between obedient son and protective brother closer to the one role he had never doubted.

 

Dean shook himself back to the present and nodded approvingly at Sam’s television choice. “Okay, then. Why the doc? Why not someone like Kirk?” Dean’s eyes gleamed. “He was _awesome_.”

 

Sam grimaced, hunching further as he ducked his head in classic ‘I don’t want to do this’ Sam-speak.

 

Dean waited.

 

“Because he was different,” Sam nearly whispered.

 

“Different?” Dean’s voice was rough with anticipation.

 

“He wasn’t a soldier. He wore the uniform, lived the life, but…..he thought about stuff that no one else did – always saw things differently. He was an outsider – I mean, the Captain and Spock, those two just always seemed closer, you know? More alike. Yeah, McCoy was their friend, but…different.” Sam’s eyes were rooted to the pavement, afraid to look up.

 

Dean struggled to keep his voice steady. Leave it to Sam, at seven years old, when he should have been cheering for phasers and space battles, to instead see depressing familial parallels. “And that felt familiar?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yeah, sometimes,” Sam winced.

 

Dean nodded, blinking back tears. “So…‘Bones,’” he concluded.

 

Sam shifted. “Well, not entirely,” he amended. He glanced up at Dean. “I _was_ gonna call him ‘McCoy.’”

 

“Dude, that would’ve sucked more than ‘Fido,’” Dean rallied.

 

Sam’s grin was brief, but honest. “Well, it’s better than ‘Leonard,’” he shot back.

 

“Touché,” Dean acquiesced with a shudder.

 

Sam chuckled before sobering with memory. “Most of the episodes seemed like the ‘Captain and Spock show’, you know? It’s like they could do everything just the two of them. But….. McCoy was the only one who had a nickname – and the way the Captain said ‘Bones’……well, when he said it, McCoy wasn’t on the outside anymore. He was family. Even if he _was_ different.”

 

Sam paused, waiting for a smartass comment that never came. Dean just watched him, breathless.

 

Sam’s throat bobbed as he pushed through the embarrassment. “When the Captain called McCoy ‘Bones’ it reminded me of you calling me ‘Sammy.’”

 

Dean frowned, finding his voice. “But Dad called you ‘Sammy’ too.”

 

“Yeah, but it didn’t feel the same,” Sam replied quietly. “Anyone else calling McCoy ‘Bones’ would’ve just sounded weird. Anyone but you calling me ‘Sammy’….well, just wasn’t my brother.” He shrugged and ducked his head, waiting for Dean to call him out on the mother of all chick flick moments.

 

Dean’s breath hitched. “So…..‘Bones,’” he repeated, voice thick.

 

Sam nodded. “So….‘Bones,’” he affirmed softly.

 

Dean was absolutely still.

 

The silent struggle for control quickly became unnerving. Sam reverted to tried-and- true Winchester methodology. “Look, I know it’s lame, but I was a kid, and you wanted the truth. So just go ahead and call me a girl and….”

 

Dean raised a hand, cutting him off. “Okay, yeah, it’s lame. Probably one of the gayest things you’ve ever said, and that’s saying something. But let’s get to the important part. Did you just call me Captain Kirk?” his eyes widened.

 

Sam’s face scrunched. “What?” he tried to follow.

 

“That whole story….I mean, if I followed it right, Dad was Mr. Spock, wasn’t he? So the thing with the nicknames and stuff……means you made _me_ Captain Kirk,” Dean put together.

 

Sam thought about it for a second. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he realized.

 

Dean lit up. “Dude, that is _awesome_!” he grinned. “James Tiberius Kirk, the most badass starship Captain in history. I wanted to be him and Han Solo _combined_.” He bounced excitedly. “Still do, actually,” he admitted after a moment’s consideration. “Man, this _totally_ makes up for all that other ‘dear diary’ crap.”

 

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. And so, in true Winchester fashion, that was it – everything choked out, mocked, moved on, and right with the world.

 

But their eyes still shone with emotion, meeting over laughter with the raw truth spoken between painful memories, childish distraction, and blatant name-calling.

 

_Thank you for telling me._

_Thank you for listening._

_Thank you for being my brother._

 

“So…..we good?” Sam finally asked.

 

“Dude, I’m _awesome_ ,” Dean grinned, before sobering just enough to meet Sam’s eyes honestly. “You?”

 

Sam smiled, relieved, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I am.” And it was the truth.

 

Dean grinned again. “Good,” he said, grabbing Sam’s arm. “Now, come on,” he headed for the pet shop door.

 

“Dean wait - I thought….” Sam caught himself. “I thought you were hungry,” he finished lamely, motioning toward the deli.

 

“Yeah,” Dean dismissed the reminder. “But it can wait.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened. “Food can _wait_? For _you_?” he asked with mock astonishment.

 

“Shut up,” Dean swatted his arm. “Bones Jr. there hasn’t taken his eyes off you this whole time – I mean, look at that face, Sam. It’s like you when you ask for five more minutes with books in languages that’ve been _dead_ longer than they were ever _alive_.”

 

Sam punched Dean back with a practiced glare.

 

“C’mon, Sammy, Doc there needs a good time as much as you do,” Dean waggled his eyebrows.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “What about you?” he asked. He knew how Dean felt about dogs, and it didn’t look like there were many cats.

 

“Well, there’s parrot-cat,” Dean began.

 

Sam shook his head, and decided to not even _try_ and figure out where the hell Dean had come up with that…..until his brother suddenly exploded into pure, unrestrained laughter. Sam followed Dean’s eyes to see a Chocolate Labrador puppy running around the pen humping several other puppies in quick succession. “Seriously, Dean?” he asked drily.

 

“Dude, _that_ one might be Bones,” Dean nodded at the Golden, “but _that_ one,” he pointed at the Lab, “is pure Kirk. He’s got a little Captain in himself _and_ half the other dogs,” he snorted.

 

The laughter was contagious. Sam hadn’t thought either of them _could_ laugh like that anymore.

 

Dean pulled him toward the entrance. “C’mon Sammy!” he grinned, the bell chiming behind him as he hurried through the door.

 

Sam basked in those two familiar syllables and everything they meant.

 

….Before rushing after Dean, to intercept creative ‘boldly going’ references directed at innocent puppies.

 

Sam didn’t know how any of this was going to end. Destiny. Earth. Dean’s life. His life. But Ash had given Sam a glimmer of hope, that maybe it wouldn’t all end in fire. That, just maybe, they had a chance at Heaven. And if Heaven really _was_ a place to relive your greatest hits, well, Sam figured that watching Dean crudely narrating a puppy’s natural urges in his best Shatner impersonation had to at least make the top ten.

 

He caught a glimpse of Dean’s back, shoulders tensed in a classic, desperate Dean attempt _not_ to burst out into uncontrollable laughter at his own cleverness.

 

Sam grinned. Yep, definitely a highlight. One he would be happy to relive, whether visiting Ashland amidst the “Bud, blood, and beer nuts”, or in Winchesterland, just him and Dean.

 

Together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- Besides the scene with Bones and the revelations of Flagstaff, the following episode lines were referenced and paraphrased for this story:  
> Sam: “Maybe that’s what heaven is – a place where you relive your greatest hits.”(To Dean after meeting up in Heaven and realizing they were in each other’s memories)  
> Ash: “See, you got Winchesterland. Ashland. A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: heaven.” “I heard that you were up. Of course I had to come find you. Again.” “ This ain’t the first time here. I mean, you boys die more than anyone I’ve ever met.” “Ah, yeah, you don’t remember. God! Angels. Must’ve Windexed your brain.” (Selected lines from his conversation with Sam and Dean)  
> Ash: “Bud, blood, and beer nuts. It’s the best smell in the world.” (Referencing Dean’s remark that Ash’s heaven, the Roadhouse, even smelled the same)  
> \- Austin Powers (Dr. Evil), the Bond films (particularly references to villain Ernst Stavro Blofeld and his cat), the Twilight Zone, Star Wars, and Star Trek (especially Dr. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy) do not belong to me either. I’m simply borrowing them for their place in this story, with all due respect to their respective creators.


End file.
